


A Benevolent Arrangement

by cjk1701



Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1629332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjk1701/pseuds/cjk1701
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel is dead, but the boys are safe, and Chrestomanci is soon off to the south of France. There is just one matter of business left to sort out: Mordecai Roberts.<br/>Follows directly after  "Stealer of Souls".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Benevolent Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiPagan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiPagan/gifts).



> Many thanks to Temaris, beta extraordinaire, as well as to Jen Athene, Denise, Claire, Lila and Karen. All the remaining mistakes are my own fault.
> 
> Written for BiPagan

 

 

Disclaimer: Chrestomanci et al. belong to Diana Wynne Jones. No copyright infringement intended, and no profit made.

This story is set directly after "Stealer of Souls".

* * *

>   
> _"But friendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life. And thanks to a benevolent arrangement of things, the greater part of life is sunshine."_  
>  \-- Thomas Jefferson

* * *

"Well, that seems to be it," Chrestomanci said briskly. He signed the document in front of him with a flourish and snapped the thick leather folder closed. The rainbow-coloured dragons on his midnight-blue dressing gown creased.

"Will you be off to the south of France, then?" Mordecai Roberts asked.

"I suppose so. Millie has made all the arrangements and told the children; I can hardly avoid it."

"Mmm," Mordecai agreed and leaned back in his chair. He pulled at his sleeve, a strangely nervous gesture. "Rosalie will keep track of the lawyers while you're gone. Librarian is the perfect position for her, especially here at the Castle."

"I expect she agrees. It was originally Millie's idea," Chrestomanci answered with a vague wave of his hand, dismissing all responsibility for the notion.

"And her ideas are usually sound," Mordecai added, and they shared a smile. "I think Rosalie feels guilty about not listening to Gabriel," he continued after a moment, sighing. "Frankly, so do I. It gave me the fright of my life to see the boys' cab disappear." He sighed. "Eric is just as good at getting into scrapes as you were."

"I do not have the slightest idea what you might mean," Chrestomanci said loftily. "I'm sure I never got into any scrapes."

"Oh, absolutely," Mordecai agreed, straight-faced. "All those times when you were in disgrace must have been a figment of my overactive imagination. Especially the months after Gabriel brought you lot back from Series Seven."

Chrestomanci shuddered demonstratively. "Not an enjoyable place at all, I'm afraid. Although I'd be much obliged if you didn't mention that to Conrad," he added quickly.

"My lips are sealed," Mordecai said with mock severity, the aforementioned lips curling as he suppressed a smile.

Chrestomanci shifted in his chair and said, rather more seriously, "I dread to think what might have happened."

Mordecai pursed his lips and nodded. "A very unfortunate situation. Eric and Tonino were saved only by their resourcefulness, but they are both so young..."

"I was younger than Cat when I got into my first 'unfortunate situation'," Chrestomanci pointed out.

"True," Mordecai agreed. "In that respect you are very similar indeed."

Chrestomanci frowned faintly. "In many others as well, though it will take Cat years to realise that. I hope."

"Really? He always struck me as a rather quiet, timid kind of boy," Mordecai said with a small smile.

"Cat? Hardly," Chrestomanci replied, raising an eyebrow. "He was either intimidated by Gabriel or feeling guilty about his latest misdeed. I'm inclined to assume the latter."

"Now that most definitely does not remind me of any other boy," Mordecai said with a grin that made fine lines appear around his eyes.

"I was never intimidated by Gabriel," Chrestomanci pointed out.

"No, your days were spent alternately shouting at him and not listening to anything he said. Sometimes you could do both at once."

Chrestomanci smiled sadly. "I wonder how his soul will manifest itself. He will be missed."

Mordecai bowed his head briefly, but did not reply.

"It will be good to finally have you back here," Chrestomanci said eventually. "I haven't seen you much these past years." The tone was nonchalant, but the unmistakable warmth bled through nonetheless.

Mordecai was silent for a moment, his usually mobile face frozen into a mask, and then he stood up quickly and moved to the window. "No, Christopher," he said very quietly. "The terms specified only until all of Gabriel's lives had left him and his affairs were settled. I will not be beholden to anyone else, even you, not now. You have no right to that any longer."

There was a pause. Chrestomanci looked taken aback, an unusual look for him. "Whatever are you talking about, Mordecai?" he asked, standing up as well. "What terms?"

"The terms under which I would get to keep my freedom, such as it was," Mordecai said without turning around. "Though I've often wondered if prison wouldn't have been the easier alternative. I hear they sometimes have cricket teams."

"Prison?" Chrestomanci frowned. The room seemed colder, despite being bathed in sunshine.

"Don't tell me you didn't know about Gabriel's little arrangement," Mordecai said with quiet bitterness, staring out at the Castle grounds. The sunlight made his light curly hair shine like a halo.

"Arrangement?" Chrestomanci sounded utterly perplexed. "I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about." He paused, then reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly above Mordecai's shoulder; the sleeve of his dressing gown just brushing his jacket. "Tacroy?"

"No!" Mordecai spun around. "You have no right to that either, Chrestomanci, not any longer!"

Chrestomanci's face lost all expression, becoming vague and blank. His shape seemed to become impossibly taller and thinner, utterly dominating the room. Outside, even the birds were still. "I'm afraid I'm not quite following you, old fellow," he said softly. "Might I perhaps trouble you to explain yourself?"

The fight seemed to leave Mordecai, and he gestured to the sofa, "No, I'm sorry." He rubbed a hand over his face and didn't look at Chrestomanci. "I apologise, Christopher; I have not been myself lately."

Chrestomanci hesitated briefly, then nodded and sank down in the leather armchair, leaving Mordecai to sit on the sofa.

Mordecai leaned back, his head brushing a big ginger cat that was sleeping on the sofa back. "You must remember it, Christopher," he began tiredly. "It was you who asked Gabriel to exert his influence so that I would not be sent to prison."

For a single moment Chrestomanci looked astonished. Then the cold blankness reasserted itself. "Mordecai, that was twenty-five years ago. Surely--"

"Twenty-six, yes," Mordecai interrupted in the same tired voice. "For my dealings with the Wraith, the punishment would have been a life sentence, reduced to about twenty-five years for cooperation and good behaviour. Gabriel offered me an alternative: to serve him as his personal assistant until his final death and the subsequent settlement of all his affairs. He mentioned once that he thought the duration would be roughly the same."

"He said that we sometimes can feel the final death approaching," Chrestomanci remarked absently. Sitting down he looked only slightly less forbidding.

Mordecai nodded. "Useful." He closed his eyes briefly. "So there we are. Gabriel is dead, we just finished signing the last of the papers... and I am now free. Of course," he added quickly, "seeing as Gabriel's soul lives on in some child, you would have grounds for continuing the arrangement. Especially considering I belong to you, after all." His lips twisted. "I would hope, for the sake of our friendship, you would choose not to make that claim."

Chrestomanci's expression wouldn't have passed as a smile anywhere. "I would never, in any way, keep you anywhere against your will," he said icily. "I find myself disappointed that you would ever think otherwise."

"I..." Mordecai began, and then looked away. "I didn't really think that," he said. "But it _has_ been twenty-six years and you are Chrestomanci now. That changes things."

"Yes," Chrestomanci said coldly, "but that is hardly applicable in this situation." The statement seemed to hang in the air for a moment. "What about Rosalie?"

"What about her? She'll be happy here," Mordecai said a touch defensively. "She always has been."

"Does she know you are leaving?"

"Yes," Mordecai said heavily. "She isn't happy about it, of course, but she has known for a long time. This is what we had agreed upon, back then."

"Mordecai," Chrestomanci said slowly, and it was clear from the pause that he had wanted to use a different name. "I do understand that you have not been happy. Although it is a great pity you never mentioned it to me - in the name of our friendship," he added acidly. "But Gabriel is dead now, your 'arrangement' is void, and you are free to live your life as you see fit. Why run away? You have powerful magic; you are one of our best astral travellers. Surely you do know that we would support you in every way."

Mordecai's face tightened into a bitter, tense expression. "No, Christopher, you do not understand anything. All my life I've belonged to someone: the Dright, your uncle Ralph, Gabriel, Rosalie... and you. I've never been allowed to be my own master. Surely I've paid my dues." He looked up, intently. "Let me go."

There was a resounding silence. A bird called outside.

"I see," Chrestomanci said finally. "You make your own choices, of course, as do we all. Although I am concerned that Rosalie will not--"

"Rosalie understands," Mordecai said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Our marriage was one of mutual affection and... convenience, you might say. Surely you knew..."

"I knew about you and Conrad," Chrestomanci said dryly. "I had assumed it was a... moment of uncertainty, not a habit."

Mordecai smiled: a real, if small, smile. "That was why you were so skittish then? I thought it was just nerves because of your wedding coming up."

"Partly," Chrestomanci admitted with an expansive half-shrug. "I was also unsure whether Millie and I were doing the right thing. Seeing you and Conrad made me question my choice all the more."

Mordecai looked up, his eyes crinkling in astonishment. "I never suspected you--" he began.

"I don't," Chrestomanci said firmly, forestalling him. "But I was very uncertain, at the time. Quite an unpleasant feeling," he added with a vague gesture.

Mordecai laughed, low and dry. "You, of all people. Had I known--"

"I assure you, it wouldn't have changed anything," Chrestomanci said, leaning forward. "Tacroy, you are making a mistake. Running away is never the answer, and you know I speak from experience. I do wish you would reconsider."

Mordecai shook his head slowly. "No. Not now. But I will come and visit, perhaps. I owe it to you and Rosalie. In this world, you two are the ones I care most about. That won't change."

Chrestomanci bowed his head briefly, and then stood up. His shadow lengthened impossibly over the carpet.

Mordecai rose to his feet as well and stepped forward. "I am a very selfish creature, Christopher; I know that, whatever reasons there may be. Thank you for everything."

"Everything?" Chrestomanci asked with a dryly raised eyebrow. The rainbow-coloured dragons on his dressing gown seemed to move, focussing on Mordecai as well.

"My soul. These last thirty years. Whatever years may come," Mordecai listed quietly. "There is much that I owe you... and I think you are the only one whose ownership over me I never resented. I wish..."

Chrestomanci shook his head, looking pained, before extending his hand. Ignoring it, Mordecai stepped forward and tipped his face up, brushing his lips against Chrestomanci's.

The kiss lasted only a moment. Immediately, both stepped back and Mordecai raised an arm to squeeze Chrestomanci's shoulder. "Goodbye, Christopher," he said softly, his familiar smile making little laughing wrinkles around his eyes.

"Goodbye, Tacroy," Chrestomanci replied quietly, and watched Mordecai walk out, closing the door behind him.

Sitting down on the abandoned sofa, Chrestomanci turned his head to watch the cloudless summer sky through the window. Almost unconsciously he touched the tips of his fingers to his lips. Outside, the bird called again. The dragon dressing gown was still.

Before long the door to his office opened again. "I saw Mordecai leave. He looked sad, the poor man," Millie said briskly, sinking down onto the sofa next to her husband. "And Janet is very much on the mend, I'm happy to say. That vacation of yours was an excellent idea, we've all earned it."

"Hmm," Chrestomanci replied absently. He was still looking at the window, his eyes focussed at something quite beyond it, in place as well as in time.

"What are you thinking about, my dear?" Millie asked, putting her head on his shoulder.

Turning to look down at her, Chrestomanci put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Choices," he finally answered. "Choices, decisions, roads taken and not taken."

"And?" Millie asked, turning her face up.

"And, as usual, I can't fault mine," answered Chrestomanci with just a trace of a smile, visible only to those who knew him well. He buried his nose in his wife's hair and inhaled deeply. "I may have been uncertain once or twice, which will surely come as a shock to you, but in the end, all my choices were the right ones. Of course."

"Of course," Millie echoed with a smile. "I'm sure they were."

 

 

 


End file.
